


Let's Stay In Bed

by candiedillusions



Series: How Bittersweet This Would Taste [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 11:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14104710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candiedillusions/pseuds/candiedillusions
Summary: It wasn’t till the door to the King’s Chamber had finally shut that Noctis let his shoulders slump from his usual dignified posture. No longer standing Tall, Stern and Kingly, he twisted around to stretch out his aching back, hearing his joints pop from the effort. Noctis groaned. He certainly felt like he was fifty, even though he was barely thirty-two.Noctis didn’t bother washing up, or undressing, or doing anything at all, other than head straight into his bedroom and flop face-down onto his bed, his raiments still on.-Or Noctis has had a long day, and Prompto is here to help.





	Let's Stay In Bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NamelessMoogle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelessMoogle/gifts).



> Written for Nana, for dropping me the prompt of "I could just use a hug" for a drabble ;)

It wasn’t till the door to the King’s Chamber had finally shut that Noctis let his shoulders slump from his usual dignified posture. No longer standing Tall, Stern and Kingly, he twisted around to stretch out his aching back, hearing his joints pop from the effort. Noctis groaned. He certainly felt like he was fifty, even though he was barely thirty-two. 

Noctis didn’t bother washing up, or undressing, or doing anything at all, other than head straight into his bedroom and flop face-down onto his bed, his raiments still on. 

“Are you sure you went for a council meeting?” commented Prompto, arms folded across his chest and leaning idly on the doorframe of the King’s bedroom, “Buddy, you look like you got hit by a truck.” 

Noctis grunted a response. Prompto crossed the room and nudged Noctis with a toe, but was met with small moan. The King of the entire Lucis was currently a whiney, unmoving lump. 

Prompto laughed a little, his voice cutting through the gloom like the first crepuscular rays after a thunderstorm. He sat on the bed next to his King, running calloused fingers through his soft, dark locks. 

“I  _ feel  _ like I got hit by a truck,” came a muffled groan from Noctis, before turning his head to the side in Prompto’s direction, “I don't know how the Kings before me did it. I am so done with being King. Can I not be King tomorrow? I just want to be... I don't know, a potato.” 

Prompto snorted and flopped down on his back, his fingers still lazily tangled in Noctis’ hair. 

“Sure,” said Prompto, “I’d be a potato with you.” 

Noctis blindly reached with his right hand, creeping forward and making grabby gestures until he found Prompto’s lithe frame. He tugged on Prompto’s Kingsglaive uniform, wanting his lover close by. Prompto chuckled at how utterly  _ needy  _ his King was being.

Getting up and swinging a knee across Noctis’ frame, Prompto straddled his back, hands working fast to unbuckle the raiments and the ornate clasps from Noctis’ shoulders, flinging them on the floor. Noctis sighed as the weight was lifted away. Prompto worked the jacket off, and before Noctis could dictate where this was heading, Prompto took hold of Noctis’ shoulders and pressed his thumbs in, finding the knots almost instantly and working them outward, slowly, with firm enough pressure to make Noctis groan from the sweet ache. 

Prompto moved along his shoulders and up his neck, then started making gentle, scraping gestures along Noctis’ scalp, and Noctis leaned in like the actual cat that he was. 

“Mm.. Don’t stop, Prom, that feels amazing,” Noctis practically purred. 

Noctis’ small moment of peace was suddenly interrupted with a shrill beep of his phone. Noct groaned, knowing very well who he’d assigned the tone to. He reached into his pocket to draw out his phone and toss it somewhere along his massive bed. 

“If Iggy comes for me tomorrow, tell him I’m dead,” Noctis said, “Tell him the Astrals took me. Here lies Noctis Lucis Caelum, 114th and last King of Lucis. Mourn me when I’m gone.” 

Prompto’s fingers stiffened and froze in place.

“Don’t say that,” Prompto said, his voice a tad softer than before. 

“I’m serious, Prom, I’d rather get stabbed thirteen times by my ancestors again than sit through another tiresome council meeting debating on whether or not they should prioritise funds to build statues to celebrate the ‘King of Light’, instead of building schools and hospitals and homes.  _ Statues _ , Prom,” Noctis groaned.

Prom kept silent. 

“Prom?” Noctis asked, finally blinking a bleary eye open to find out why Prompto had gone quiet. 

“It’s not funny, Noct,” Prompto whispered, withdrawing his hands, “Don’t joke about things like that. I... We...” 

Prompto struggled, failing to find the words. They’d never spoken about this. Between the bringing back the Dawn and rebuilding Insomnia, how could there have been time? 

Prompto’s vision swam as he was hit with the full force of everything he’d tried to shove into a little compartmentalised box, emotions to be dealt with “another day”, all bursting forth to rear their ugly heads at him.

Even if he wanted to, how could he find the words to tell Noct about the ten long years of shadows and daemons that still crept into his nightmares and his waking moments? The memories of the years he spent without Noct, not knowing if he would ever return, bleeding into the day where Noctis finally did, only to tell them that in order to save the world, he'd have to die? 

The determined look on Noctis’ face as they stood on the citadel steps and said goodbye, certain they’d never see each other again? 

The way they’d found Noctis on the throne, his father’s sword impaled in his chest, bleeding and gasping and barely hanging on, tears running down his cheeks? 

The way they had gently removed him from the throne, his wound so ghastly and gaping, his breaths so shallow that even as they crushed their last elixirs and desperately tried to stave the bleeding, they didn’t dare to hope he’d make it?

The way he had lay for the months after, ghostly pale in the citadel infirmary, nobody knowing if their King of Light would ever wake up? 

The way...

“ **_Prompto_ ** ,” said Noctis, an urgent edge to his voice as he shook Prompto’s shoulders slightly, and Prompto blinked repeatedly, confused. 

He was clinging tight onto Noctis’ shoulders, his fingers digging harsh into the flesh. 

Prompto quickly released Noctis, and panting, shut his eyes tight again. 

“We almost didn’t get you back,” Prompto said, his voice cracking at the edges. 

“Hey,” said Noctis, lacing his fingers with Prompto’s to rouse him from his thoughts, “I’m sorry. I’m here, okay? I'm not gonna disappear. Not anymore.” 

He gently squeezed Prompto’s hands, bringing them to his lips to plant a soft kiss on the knuckles, until Prompto’s eyes finally met his. 

“Anything I can do to make this better?” Noctis asked, his gaze soft, looking at Prompto as though there wasn’t anyone else in the world. 

“Well...” Prompto said, a small, shaky smile creeping into his face, “I could just use a hug.” 

Noctis gave him a wry smile, snaking a hand around Prompto’s waist to pull him into his embrace. Prompto’s head fell naturally into the crook of Noctis’ neck, two pieces of a puzzle clicking into place, fitting perfectly together like they always had. 

“For as long as you want, Prom,” Noctis assured him, gently nuzzling into Prompto’s blond locks. 

Prompto’s fingers traced the scars that still looked angry and raw two years on, before finding its place and settling above Noctis’ heart. The steady heartbeat underneath his fingertips helped calm his mind, assuring him that Noct was alive, and here, and by his side. 

He had everything he wished for and more... yet Prompto couldn’t help but want one more thing. 

“Noct?” asked Prompto, looking up at Noctis and kissing the side of his jaw, “I know what you can do to make it better.”

Noctis looked quizzically at Prompto. “Anything you want, babe.”

“Let’s be useless potatoes all day tomorrow,” Prompto said, snuggling into Noctis’ embrace. 

“Sure, Prom,” smiled Noctis, a triumphant glint in his eyes, “Let’s do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> CLEARLY I DON'T KNOW WHAT A DRABBLE IS because - oh, look, my hand slipped. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed my random word vomit, guys. HMU on [@candiedillusions](http://candiedillusions.tumblr.com) if you'd like to scream to me about anything! :D


End file.
